


A Conversation Over Dinner

by NB_Cecil



Series: October OTP Ficlets [29]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Gratuitous Smut, Holodeck, M/M, Male Slash, Mild Kink, Picard’s holodeck adventures, Shameless Smut, Slash, dinner date, established Data/Picard, public dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 20:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16436615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NB_Cecil/pseuds/NB_Cecil
Summary: A smutty sequel toAesthetics: Picard and Data talk dirty over dinner in Ten Forward.





	A Conversation Over Dinner

Picard, fresh from his _James Bond_ holodeck adventure and still wearing his tuxedo, scans the evening crowd in Ten Forward, spotting Data at the bar engaged in conversation with Guinan. Seizing the opportunity to surprise him, he approaches from behind, circles his arm round the Android’s waist and leans in to kiss his cheek. He is rewarded with a twitch of the Android’s eyebrows before he recovers his composure.

“Good evening, Captain.” Data greets him.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Guinan gives them a knowing smile and moves down the bar to busy herself mixing drinks.

“I have reserved a table upstairs in the far corner.” Data informs the Captain as he slips down from his perch on the high bar stool. “I wish to hear all about the holodeck.” He takes Picard’s hand and leads him up the spiral staircase to the bar’s upper level dining area. They slide into booth seats, facing each other over the table.

Picard smooths his hands over the lapels of his jacket before removing it and folding if carefully beside him on the seat. “I hope you had an enjoyable time while I was gone?” He enquires.

“It was satisfactory, thank you. Geordi wishes to check my code for errors, although I have assured him there are none, and we intend to install the VISOR update at 08:00 hours tomorrow.” Data replies. “That outfit really does accentuate some of your best aesthetic qualities.” He continues. Picard’s cheeks redden a little and he smiles his thanks at the compliment.

The waiter arrives. Picard orders ravioli; Data orders sparkling water.

The conversation turns to the Captain’s _007_ adventure. He recounts an exhilarating time chasing a mercenary thief through Shanghai, London and the Scottish Highlands to thwart a potentially devastating cyber attack. Data is especially interested in Bond’s love interests, imparting facts about the _Bond Girls_ ’ place in Earth popular culture. He is disappointed to learn his lover did not take the opportunity to kiss one.

“I was more focussed on the action elements of the plot than the romance.” Picard explains. “I can always return to the holodeck another day if you _really_ insist kiss a _Bond Girl_. Speaking of romance,” He continues, “You paid me some very lovely, if somewhat unusual, compliments earlier. Thank you.” He reaches across the table to take the Android’s hand.

The food arrives and Picard turns his attention to his ravioli, liberally grinding black pepper over the plate before tucking in.

“You know,” He says between mouthfuls, “When we’re back in our quarters later, I ought to show my gratitude for your thoughtfulness.”

“You have already thanked me.” Data frowns, sipping his water. “It was sufficient.”

Picard clears his throat and leans across the table. “What I mean is... that was a delicate way of stating my intention to perform sexual favours for you later, should you want me to.”

“Oh.” Data’s eyes widen. “‘Sexual favours’ is a broad category. Can you elaborate on the specifics of what you have in mind?”

Picard pushes his plate aside and rests his elbows on the tabletop. He glances round to check they’re not being overheard. “Well, perhaps,” He keeps his voice low, “You would permit me to pay attention to that beautiful cock of yours?”

“In what way?” Data leans in too, an expression of conspiratorial interest on his face.

“With my mouth...” The Captain’s voice is barely above a whisper. He meets the Android’s eyes. “...Would you like that?”

“That would be agreeable.”

Picard finds this oh-so-Data-like response endearing and chuckles to himself. 

“How?” Data probes. “How would you use your mouth on me?”

“Well...” Picard shifts in his seat, somewhat uncomfortable at discussing such intimate details in public, albeit in a secluded corner. “After I’ve undressed you, I would have you stand and I would kneel at your feet—“

“Would you keep some of that _James Bond_ costume on please?” Data interrupts. “The shirt and the bow tie perhaps?”

“Of course. Whatever you want.” Picard is delighted at Data’s input to their shared fantasy. “Perhaps you would like to...” He pauses, searching for a word to describe the image in his mind. “... _Dishevel_ it?”

“please elaborate.”

“I don’t know... undo a few buttons, undo the tie and leave it hanging loose, roll the sleeves up?”

“That would be _most_ agreeable.”

“Good, now where were we? I was telling you exactly how I would use my mouth on you, I think?”

“That is correct.” Data takes both of the Captain’s hands in his, lifts them to his lips and kisses the knuckles.

Maintaining a deliberate eye contact, Picard continues, “First, I would take just the head of your cock in my mouth; explore it with my tongue. I’d use my hand to cup your balls—I know you like that—squeezing them gently as I take you further into my mouth.” He feels a stirring in his pants as he explains his desires to Data and shifts again in his seat. He draws a ragged breath before going on. “If I’ve remembered to replicate some lubricant beforehand, I might reach through your legs and play with your arsehole a bit. Maybe as we go on I’ll slip a finger in.”

Data shifts his body as far forward as the space between the banquette and the table will allow, pressing his knee against Picard’s leg. He moves one hand under the table, and Picard realises with a delicious thrill that the Android is touching himself through his trousers. The steady movement against his leg and the motion of Data’s forearm give it away.

“Do go on.” Data encourages.

“Well, once I’ve got you warmed up—although you seem to be doing a pretty good job of that yourself just now—“ Picard pointedly drops his gaze to the tabletop, below which Data is increasing the pace of his activity. “I would turn my attention to your shaft. I’d perhaps give you some little licks and kisses along it, especially the underside, caress it with my free hand, and then—at the same time as I slip a second finger into your arse—I’d take your balls gently in my mouth.”

“Ooh,” Data visibly shivers, returning his hand to the tabletop. Picard can feel his leg jiggling against his own. “I hypothesise that by this point I would be likely to be close to climax.” 

“Ok. Well, I’d better get on with it then.” Picard grins.

“And how do you propose to bring me to orgasm?” Data enquires.

Picard draws another ragged breath. “I have two fingers inside you, right?”

“That is correct.”

The Captain holds up two fingers to demonstrate. He wiggles them slowly.

“And what would your mouth be doing?” Data whispers breathlessly, hand back under the table.

“Trying to fit as much of you inside as possible, of course.”

“Would you permit me to place a guiding hand on the back of your head?”

“By all means.” Picard enthuses. “In fact, I would rather enjoy it if your guidance was... forceful, _rough_ even.”

“Is that so? And would you find it arousing if I were to match your motion with my own thrusting?”

“Very much so.” Picard licks his lips enthusiastically.

“Do you intend to spit or swallow, Jean-Luc? Or perhaps you would prefer me to ejaculate over your face?” Data runs a finger down Picard’s cheek.

“Unngh.” Picard makes a small noise in his throat, trying to recover his composure. “My face, please.” He is breathing fast and shallow now. “If you could push my head back and... especially if you’ve been holding my head and fucking my mouth hard... and might you—perhaps—use your cock to slap my cheek...? That would....Mmm” He trails off.

“...That would express your gratitude.” Data finishes the sentence for him.

“Indeed it would.” Picard agrees. “I think it’s time we went home now, don’t you?” He takes a last forkful of now-cold pasta and rises from his seat, hoping his throbbing boner will go unnoticed by the bar’s other patrons.

**Author's Note:**

> OTP Challenge Day 28. I ignored today’s prompt (“dancing”) in favour of writing a smutty sequel to yesterday’s fic. Idk if Ten Forward has an upstairs dining area or not in the shows and I never saw any diner booths, but it’s all there in my headcanon, ok?


End file.
